


A Sacrificial Virgin

by darksylvia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Derek Hale, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, First Time, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Top Derek Hale, Top Stiles Stilinski, devirginizing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 12:52:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4706702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darksylvia/pseuds/darksylvia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles goes to Derek for help in getting rid of his virginity. For his own safety, obviously. (Post 303 "Fireflies" gapfiller.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sacrificial Virgin

**Author's Note:**

> I started this immediately after that episode and then got distracted by all the other people writing awesome "Derek devirginizes Stiles" fics. I finally decided to finish it, you know, two seasons after that episode. But have some smut!
> 
> I couldn't find a beta, so if you see any weirdness, corrections welcome.

Stiles hadn't really cared that much about his virginity, before the whole sacrificial virgins and threefold gruesome death thing. It wasn't that he hadn't thought about it - a lot - but he'd kind of just been focused on finding someone who could stand him, and the idea that they might have sex with him too had seemed overly optimistic. And now, well, he couldn't get Heather out of his head. He could still feel her mouth, which had tasted a little like alcohol and her waist, which felt vulnerable and weirdly female in a way he hadn’t expected. But even that was eclipsed by the picture he carried in his head of her dead face on stainless steel morgue table.

Then after his initial terrifying realization of what the victims had in common, it processed that he should get rid of his virginity with extreme prejudice. Fuck, he would go to Jungle right now and lose it in a bathroom to the first a horny dude who didn’t ask how old he was, if he wasn't terrified of the possibility that the killer would somehow be the one to find him.

He needed to have sex with someone who most definitely wasn't the killer, and who understood that it was literally a matter of life and death, no hyperbole necessary. Scott might do it if he begged, but Stiles wasn't sure if either of them could actually handle that, or even be able to stay hard long enough to make it happen. The mechanics made him feel gross and squirmy. Allison - well, even if she was amenable to taking one for the team, which she probably wouldn't be, because how fucked up was that? - but even if she was, her father would probably shoot Stiles, and Scott might help. Isaac? Stiles tolerated the dude, but underneath his perfect curls, Stiles was pretty sure there lurked - understandably - the kind of issues that came out all sorts of wrong, especially in combination with sex. He felt like Isaac didn’t have control of the predatory side of the whole werewolf business. He dismissed Boyd and Cora for obvious reasons of werewolf insanity and also already suffering enough recent trauma. Which left Peter and Derek.

That was when he started feeling selfish and conflicted. He was pretty sure Peter would fuck him, if he asked. But Stiles was still really fucking terrified of Peter, and oh, yeah, did not trust him at all. For all he knew, Peter actually _was_ the one sacrificing virgins. 

Having sex with Derek, on the other hand, was a little too appealing. Stiles kind of, sort of, already wanted to bone Derek. Except Stiles had some pretty terrible suspicions about Derek and his sex life. He was pretty sure he wanted Derek more than Derek would want him, and asking him to have sex with Stiles would feel manipulative.

So Stiles stewed on it until he couldn’t any more. After freaking out for thirty six hours and only truly sleeping for like six of those, in between all the fucked up internet research he was doing on virgin sacrifices and what they could be used for, and having terrible waking hallucinations of Heather's face, Stiles somehow found himself in his jeep at ass o'clock in the morning driving to Derek's loft. 

He felt blank from lack of sleep, kind of soothingly not responsible for any dumb actions he was about to take, but underneath was the same terror he’d been living with for days, because he really, really did not want to die. Even the thought sent his pulse rocketing and he had to shove it out of his head fast in order to keep calm and drive. 

It took a few long minutes after he'd banged on Derek’s door for him to finally hear footsteps, and then the door was dragged back and Derek was standing on the other side, his habitual glare in place, but no worse than usual. He didn't look like he’d just woken up, but he did look tired.

"What is it, Stiles?" he said.

"I, um," Stiles ran a hand over his head. "I need a favor."

Derek sighed as he stepped aside for Stiles to enter.

"Where is everybody?" Stiles asked, scanning the loft and hoping he sounded casual.

"Isaac's with Scott. Boyd and Cora are upstairs, sleeping it off. Peter's fucked off to wherever he lives, I guess. What's the favor?"

"It's - " Stiles licked his lips nervously and paced around the table as he did it, avoiding looking at Derek's bed, right in the middle of the floor.

"Okay, this is embarrassing, but I'm just gonna say it, like ripping the bandaid off or whatever." Stiles swallowed around what felt like an apple lodged in his throat. "Will you have sex with me?"

Derek blinked, his habitual expression of part-glower, part-mainpain not even wavering. Stiles watched him for a few seconds, and felt less nervous than he had before he'd said it. Now it was out on the table. The worst thing that could happen was Derek would say, incredulously, _what the fuck, Stiles_ , and Stiles would go home and think of a plan B.

But the longer the silence stretched, the more conscious Stiles was of the fact that Derek had not, in fact, said anything.

Finally, Derek frowned, which was just a little more frowny than his normal expression, and ran a hand over his face as if he was just too tired to contemplate life before he finally said, "Are you sure it's me you want to ask?"

"Uh, yeah," said Stiles, confused. 

"Why?" Derek said, looking equally confused, and great, now they were both confused.

"Well," Stiles hedged, suddenly a lot more awake, while he identified about six thousand things he _shouldn't_ say in the space of a few seconds, until he was left with pretty much nothing he _could_ say, especially when Derek could tell if he was lying. He finally settled on, "I literally and emphatically do not want to die a virgin."

Derek made an impatient face and said, "Why _me_? Why not Scott or…" he trailed off and Stiles nodded at him.

"Yeah, you see my problem. See, the last person who wanted to have sex with me is laying on a table in the morgue. And I'm pretty sure I couldn't, with Scott, even if he could with me."

"But you could, with me?" Derek still looked puzzled, but it was overlaid now with that overly patient condescension he used on Stiles so much of the time, and maybe it was the familiar ground, but Stiles' apprehension evaporated.

"Yeah, with you," Stiles said, annoyed. "I know you, I know you're not the killer, I'm hoping that maybe you don't want me to die, and you know, seeing you naked wouldn't exactly be a hardship for me or anyth - " Stiles cut himself off because Derek's expression had intensified, no blinking, the condescension completely gone, and just like that Stiles was nervous again.

"Sorry?" Stiles said. "I wasn't trying to objectify you or whatever, and I get that I'm not, like anyone's ideal, and I don't even know if you swing that way, so maybe we can just pretend I didn't ask and go back to being whatever we are - collaborators in the fight for Beacon Hills?"

Derek stayed intense, and gave a short, sharp shake of his head resulting in his eyes flashing red, and Stiles couldn't help the way his heart stuttered in his chest. 

"Let me get this straight," said Derek, apparently not seeing any irony in that sentence what-so-ever as he started stalking toward Stiles. "You want me, a person of interest to the police, to take _your_ virginity, you being the minor son of the county Sheriff, in order to save your life?"

"Yes," said Stiles, surprising himself with the firmness in his voice. He straightened his spine and stood his ground when Derek crowded him against the edge of the table, his arms braced on either side, almost but not quite touching him. 

"We've both broken more important laws than that this last year, and I can guarantee you I'm not going to be telling my dad about this, just like I haven't told him about werewolves or fucking--," Stiles waved a hand "--Hunters and Kanimas." Stiles felt a surge of renewed stubbornness come over him. "I really don't want to have my throat slit or my head bashed in, or be strangled to death. And you're the only one I know that I one hundred percent want to see naked, and that I can ask without sounding insane."

And, ha, there, Derek looked taken aback. When Stiles licked his lips nervously, he saw Derek's eyes flicker down to them. Stiles, ever the adventurer, decided to test the boundaries a little bit. So he leaned forward and caught Derek's mouth. Stiles knew he wasn't bad at _this_ , at least. He might be a virgin, but he had made out with more than a few people in his time, mostly at dumb junior high parties, but still. 

It felt like a small miracle when Derek kissed back.

Derek's hands closed on Stiles' arms in a manner that was just forceful enough to be debilitatingly hot. Then Derek tilted his head and really started participating, his mouth and his hands hot on Stiles' skin.

When Derek broke the kiss, Stiles found himself clutching ineffectually at Derek’s shirt, and short of air. Derek gave him a distinctly wolfish smile, more like when he was a newly turned alpha and asked, "Are you still sure you want this from _me_?"

It hit Stiles that Derek was possibly trying to intimidate him, what with the trapping him against the table and the red eyes and the hard grip. But he had to know it wasn't going to work, right? For one thing, if Stiles wasn't scared away by being slammed into bedroom doors or threatened with teeth at the start of their association, he doesn't know why he would find some aggressive kissing and manhandling intimidating now. 

He was actually ten percent more sure, so Derek's plan had horribly backfired. Which, to be fair, was pretty much business as usual.

Stiles was not feeling tentative any more. He leaned in and reconnected with Derek's mouth, licked quick and teasing against his bottom lip, and then inside just a little bit. He pressed forward so they were chest to chest. Then he tightened his hold and angled his head so he could kiss Derek deep and wet. That seemed to be the magic "no I'm not joking, let's have sex" kiss, because suddenly Derek moved his hands down to Stiles' ass and easily lifted him onto the table. Stiles obligingly wrapped all of his limbs around Derek, which Derek seemed to like, if you could judge by the way he stepped closer and nipped Stiles’ lip.

After several more kisses, Derek muttered a small “fuck” into his mouth, scooped him up and took several steps toward the bed, only to peel him off and toss him down.

"Wha--" he got out, before Derek followed him down, and the kissing recommenced.

It was some time later, the exact length of which Stiles was hazy about, that Derek yanked his mouth away and flattened a hand against Stiles' chest to keep him from following.

"How do you want to do this, if we're going to do this?" Derek asked.

"Uh, I figured," Stiles paused and felt a sudden unwanted attack of nerves come crawling up from his stomach. "I don't know what counts as virginity, exactly. I was hoping we could do everything? I mean, well, both ways? Just to be absolutely sure."

"Right," said Derek, drawn out, like he was a little skeptical, but going along with it for now, which - it was Stiles' virginity, so Derek could just deal with Stiles' plans.

"So, how do we…start?" Stiles asked.

"I'm not sure, I've never been with a guy before," said Derek, gruffly. 

"What, really?" said Stiles, kind of appalled. "Are _you_ sure you want to do this then?"

Derek gave him a familiar exasperated glare and said, "It's not that I haven't thought about it, or that it bothers me, I've just never actually done it. So we'll just take it slow. Take off your clothes."

He got off the bed, knelt beside it, and dug out a bottle of lube from some sort of drawer, along with a few condoms.

"Yeah, right, good plan," said Stiles, a sentence he had never said unsarcastically to Derek and probably would never say again. But he sat up and started pulling off his clothes. He got his shirt off, his shoes off, had unzipped his jeans and was shimmying out of them when he stopped and realized Derek was staring, frozen, still kneeling on the floor.

"What?" he said, mid-shimmy. Derek stood up abruptly and climbed back into the bed, dropping condoms and lube so he could hook hand around Stiles’ thigh - his bare thigh - and yank him sideways, closer. Derek's hands were warm and Stiles had seen them clawed and terrifyingly strong, and now they were firmly, attentively curled around Stiles' thighs, knees, calves, removing his jeans, until one hand circled Stiles’ ankle as the other pulled his clothes free.

Stiles couldn't even think of anything witty to say. He just kind of gaped up at Derek for a long moment, Derek's hands still hot on him and finally he croaked out, "You too. No clothes time starts now."

Wordless, Derek pulled his shirt over his head one-handed and then got to work on his jeans, but Stiles suddenly realized he wanted to be involved. Mostly he hindered, but there was just all this muscle and skin, and he never thought he'd have a thing for chest hair, but apparently he did, and he needed to touch it immediately.

"I'm not even sure how - " started Stiles, "Like, how does one even get this ripped? What sort of sit ups could you possibly do to get _this_ little ridge of muscle, for instance," and Stiles traced a finger over the side of Derek's abs. Derek twitched and caught his hand. "Are you - was that - are you ticklish?"

"Dont even think about it," said Derek, before he leaned in and kissed Stiles again. There was a hand cradling his head, and one winding its way down his back in a leisurely manner, and Stiles was half high on nerves and half high on lust, so basically he was one hundred percent high.

Derek captured both of Stiles' hands and coaxed them down to Derek's hips. Stiles got with the program and pushed Derek’s pants down, broke the kiss so he could look between them and watch. He wanted to see what Derek’s dick looked like.

Derek’s dick looked normal enough, though uncircumcised, and maybe not quite as long as Stiles’. Derek's uneven breathing made his mostly-hard dick bob a little against his stomach, but he made no move to hurry things along, resting one hand loosely on Stiles’ shoulder and the other hanging at his side. The breathy noise he made when Stiles ran his fingers over the head of his dick was purely awesome. 

It only just hit him then, really, that it was supposed to go inside Stiles at some point, if he wanted to be really, really sure he was devirginized by whatever definition the sacrificer was using. It was simultaneously a really hot and faintly scary thought, and he hadn't realized how much he'd been relying on Derek to be the experienced one with this. Now they were going to have to figure it out together, which he supposed wasn't much different than most of their interactions thus far.

"Do you want to - go first?" asked Derek, gratifyingly breathless. "I mean - it's probably the safest since you can't hurt me."

Stiles frowned at him. 

"Was that negging? Did you just neg me? I assure you that I'm not going to hurt you, because uh, yes I _could_ hurt you and yeah, you'd just heal from it, but I'm pretty sure there should be no one getting hurt during sex at all."

Derek rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean."

And now suddenly, Stiles was filled with the most incredible determination to make this mindblowingly awesome, as a personal 'fuck you' to Derek's martyrdom. Forget that he was a virgin, forget that he'd only ever seen this in porn, and forget that he had no idea how to finger someone else, he at least knew the principles of what he had to do to make this not suck.

"Okay, way to make a guy feel confident." Stiles took his hand off Derek's dick, which made Derek choke back some sort of noise of protest. "Lay down."

He let Derek settle and they both helped wrestle Derek’s jeans and underwear the rest of the way off his ankles. Stiles knelt carefully between Derek's splayed legs, grabbed the lube and set it near Derek's hip, but leaned forward, bracing himself over Derek.

Stiles paused for a long moment, trying to think of how to phrase it and finally said, "Tell me if I do something you don't want me to," and then brushed his lips against the stubble of Derek's jaw like he'd been wanting to do basically since forever. It was softer than he'd thought it would be. He kissed the place where Derek's jaw met his neck and then sucked on it a little. Derek let out an unsteady breath and Stiles knew he was on the right track, but "mind-blowing" required a little something more. 

Without even thinking about it, he ran his hands down Derek's arms, but he overbalanced a little and ended up with his face smashed into Derek's shoulder. Derek caught him by his biceps and righted him with a small soundless laugh escaping, so Stiles scraped his teeth over Derek's collarbone in retaliation, which turned the laugh back to a breathless noise.

Stiles wasn't done touching. He'd been seeing Derek's bare chest for months now, and he was not going to waste possibly his only opportunity to touch it. He ran his knuckles over Derek's abs, testing that ticklishness. Derek caught his wrist, but when Stiles met his eyes, he let go, and Stiles continued up, brushing over one of Derek's nipples. That got a startled quickly stifled noise, so Stiles rubbed his thumb over it, and watched Derek's eyelashes flutter.

He moved his hands down to cup Derek's waist and, trying to appear confident, put his mouth on Derek’s nipple instead. That got him a louder sound, rough and surprised, like Derek hadn't known he was going to make it. Stiles startled a little when Derek wrapped a warm hand around the back of his neck, and the resulting scrape of teeth caused Derek to arch slightly into him.

"Christ, Stiles," he said. "I didn't even know - " but he cut himself off. Stiles had to stuff down the smug smile he could feel trying to spread over his face in order to keep paying Derek’s nipples the attention they deserved. By that time, Derek wasn't even trying to hold back his little noises or the restless, helpless way he moved against Stiles' mouth.

Stiles decided to take it a little further south. Derek scratched gently at the base of his scalp and then he ran his hand over Stiles' head, squeezing his neck as Stiles kissed down the valley between Derek's unreal abs. 

"Unreal," he muttered into them, equal parts resentful and grateful. He bit lightly just above where his hands were wrapped firmly around Derek's tapered waist, and Derek twisted into it, his fingers tightening in Stiles' hair. 

Stiles' tongue collided with the head of Derek's dick almost by accident, but after a frozen second, Stiles didn't pull away. Instead Stiles deliberately wrapped his tongue around the tip and earned a choked cry from Derek. 

_I am licking Derek's dick_ , he thought to himself, waiting for it to get weird. And it was a little, but it was a lot _more_ hot than it was weird, and before he could let himself start to over think it, he closed his mouth over the tip and sucked a little. Derek made a strangled sound that had a passing acquaintance with the syllables of Stiles' name and straight-up yanked his hair so hard it hurt just a little bit - but more shocking was that it felt like an electric current had shot through Stiles grounding itself out through his dick.

"Oh. That - Oh," Stiles muttered.

"Sorry," Derek muttered, and took his hand away.

Stiles backed off a little, looked down at Derek's dick, and then with no more hesitation, dove back in to see if he could take it deeper. 

"Fu-, Sti-," said Derek, who was seemingly incapable at the moment of full words, let alone sentences. Stiles got a hand around the base of Derek's dick, angled it better, and slid it into his mouth. Derek's response was to wrap one of his legs around Stiles and _tremble_ , like it was taking everything he had not to thrust up. It was one of the most gratifying things Stiles had ever experienced, and it made him bold. He took a deep breath and tried to take more of Derek's dick. 

Then he had to pull off real quick, coughing, his eyes watering. Okay, later for that then. Clearly it actually did take practice.

"Sorry," he said, around the coughing. 

"Just as well," said Derek. "I don't want to come before…" He trailed off and averted his eyes. Stiles thought he could make out just the slightest hint of blush across Derek's cheekbones and it took everything Stiles had not to gloat over it. He had a feeling any teasing at this point would throw a wrench in the devirginizing.

Once he'd caught his breath, he became aware of how he was kneeling between Derek's spread legs, Derek's cock red and wet, resting against his stomach, moving with each of Derek's uneven breaths.

"So…" said Stiles, trying to get his brain going. "I've never fingered another guy. Have you done it to yourself?"

"A little," said Derek. Then, like it cost him to admit it, "Never more than one finger." He was looking a little off to the side, blank-faced.

Stiles felt a surge of genuine fondness wash over him, mixing around with the lust, and now he suddenly wanted to get Derek off not to prove anything, or even to get rid of his pesky life threatening virginity, but just to make Derek feel really good.

"I've, um, done more than one on myself. I know what I like so, just, uh. Tell me if you want me to slow down or do something different or - "

"Stiles," said Derek, finally looking him in the eye again. "Just do it."

"Yes. Okay," said Stiles. He took a deep breath, grabbed the lube, and flipped the cap, poured some over two of his fingers. He flexed them, rubbed his thumb over them to warm it up, looking between Derek's legs. He glanced up at Derek, but Derek's eyes were focused with a flattering intensity on Stiles' hand.

"Okay. I'll just - " Stiles moved forward, slid his unlubed palm reassuringly over Derek's thigh, nudging it further apart, and then palmed Derek's ass to lift him a little bit so he was braced on Stiles' knees. He slid a finger from behind Derek's balls slowly down until it rested against Derek's hole, just letting him get used to the pressure of it. He nudged the tip inside a little, felt Derek let him in, and nudged a little further. Stiles kept expecting Derek to clench down, tense up, but though his breathing got erratic, his body opened right up until he had one finger in to the knuckle.

"Holy God," Stiles muttered. He pulled it out just a little and then pushed back in. He could feel how warm and tight Derek was, could feel his pulse. It was kind of terrifying how vulnerable Derek was to him right then, werewolf or not. 

"You can move it, you know," Derek said. Stiles thought he was aiming for annoyed, but mostly he just sounded breathless. 

"I'm getting there, big guy." Stiles, feeling bold, wrapped his other hand around Derek's dick and gave it a stroke at the same time as he pulled his finger out and thrust it back in. 

Derek made a hoarse noise and rolled his hips. Stiles kept it slow and then added another finger, tentatively, but Derek just took that one like he’d taken the first, his body opening up and his eyelashes fluttering, and various muscles on his chest flexing as he arched into it, and Jesus Christ, Stiles might come just from watching him.

Stiles tried to add a third too soon and Derek’s body clenched down around him in protest, “Sorry, sorry,” muttered Stiles, sliding his fingers out.

Derek curved forward in a half sit-up and caught his wrist. “Don’t stop,” he said, and if Stiles didn’t know better, he’d think there was a thread of desperation in his voice. “Just...try again slower.” He pulled Stiles’ hand back until his fingers brushed Derek’s hole, and they both seemed to have trouble breathing at that point. Then Derek laid back down and Stiles pressed back inside of him, just a little, just two fingers, and worked them in and out, slow and firm. After a little while, Derek caught his eye and nodded, so Stiles very carefully fitted a third finger alongside his other two and pushed slow-slow-slow. He watched Derek’s face, looking for any sign he should stop, some minutes later added a fourth, and was rewarded by getting to see the way Derek’s eyes went soft and unfocused, the way his lips parted and his eyebrows relaxed out of their habitual shape. It made him look younger and so vulnerable that Stiles had to glance away. 

When Derek was taking Stiles’ fingers easily, his breath hitching on every thrust, Stiles pulled them out and leaned over to get a condom. He got the package open but then got distracted by Derek wrapping a firm hand around the back of his neck and hauling him in for a kiss, so their bodies were pressed completely together. Stiles’ dick lay alongside Derek’s and both of them were rolling their hips into each other, kissing open mouthed and out of breath. 

“Here,” said Derek, snatching the condom out of Stiles’ hand and nudging him back enough for Derek to reach down between them and put the condom on Stiles. He held his breath, trying to will away how close he was to just coming all over Derek without even getting his dick anywhere useful. “Okay,” said Derek. “Slow.”

“Right,” said Stiles, nodding too much. “Yes. Slow.”

He started to brace himself over Derek and then thought better of it, kneeling again and gripping Derek’s hips to slide him back up into Stiles’ lap. Then he shifted his hips until they were lined up, nudged, testing. The head of his dick pressed inside before he met resistance and he felt his whole body seize up with how good that felt. He leaned - fell, let’s be real - forward, bracing himself over Derek and rocked in a little harder. 

He was halfway in when he noticed Derek wasn’t making any noise at all. He looked up quickly to check, and choked at the sight of Derek, arms flung over his head and clutching the edge of the bed, his head thrown back, eyes closed, lips parted. Almost involuntarily, Stiles thrust forward the rest of the way, couldn’t help how his arms trembled. Derek made a _noise_ , a sort of satisfied sound like nothing Stiles had ever heard from him before. Stiles had to press his forehead into Derek’s chest _hard_ , and just hold his breath for a long moment while he tried not to go off like rocket.

“Hey,” said Derek, his voice rough, but his tone gentle.

“Yeah, just give me a minute,” Stiles muttered. He felt a broad hand stroke down his back.

“You can come if you want,” said Derek. “I’m pretty sure this counts. We could take a break and then I could, um, do you.” The awkwardness, and maybe even the way Derek sounded understanding about it, drew Stiles back from the edge just enough that he remembered his mission. Derek was going to fucking enjoy this or his name wasn’t Stiles Stilinski.

“Fuck you,” Stiles muttered indignantly.

“Yeah, that’s kind of the point,” said Derek, smug and laughing, but still a little breathless underneath.

Stiles forced his arms to work again, lifted his head and fixed Derek with a glare. Then he shifted his knees out a little to give him better balance, with the added benefit of spreading Derek’s legs further apart. The look that crossed Derek’s face was amazing, all soft pleasure, like his brain had gone off line. Stiles had had _no idea_ Derek would look this good getting fucked and now he would never be able to unsee it.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled his hips back just a little and thrust. The pleasure of it nearly made him black out for a second, but he breathed through his nose and did it again, drew a little further out, pushed a little harder back inside. By his third thrust, Derek was moving with him, demanding a rhythm, his eyes fluttering like he wanted to keep them open but couldn’t.

He could feel sweat start to ease their slide against each other, could hear Derek grunt when Stiles got it just right, so he followed that noise until Derek was clutching him - his hair, his neck, his ass - their breath coming shuddery and fast.

“Stiles,” Derek rasped, desperately working himself into each of Stiles’ thrusts. Stiles moved one hand so that it was over Derek’s shoulder, balanced himself as well as he could without stopping the roll of his hips, and reached between them to get a hand on Derek’s dick, no longer even thinking about what he was doing, just determined to get Derek off before Stiles collapsed or came or both.

Derek’s hand wrapped around his, tightened, and then Stiles could feel Derek’s whole body tense and curl inward, the hand that was on Stiles’ ass held on so tight, he could barely thrust, and then it was non-issue, because Stiles was coming right along with Derek, so hard his toes curled and he vaguely felt his calf cramp, and it didn’t even hurt because Derek’s body dragging his orgasm out of him felt so good.

He collapsed on Derek, gasping - probably unattractively, but whatever - and waited until his brain had scraped itself back together. When he was a little more aware again, he realized Derek was...petting him. He carefully pried his hand from where he’d been clutching Derek’s arm, tucked his head a little further into Derek’s chest for a brief moment and then pushed off. He knew this part - Beacon Hills High had pretty good sex ed - and grabbed the condom so he could ease himself out. He tied it off and then felt stupid and awkward because he had no idea where Derek’s trash was. They’d just fucked and Stiles didn’t even know where the trash was in Derek’s apartment. 

Derek nudged him with a foot and nodded his head toward it, nearer the kitchen. Stiles got up, all of his limbs wobbling, and made his way over, hating how he suddenly felt exposed and weird. Was this how everyone felt after their first time? He tossed the condom and then dithered, wondering if he should just go crawl back in like it was no big thing or if he should clean off or what.

“Stiles,” said Derek, exasperation in his voice. “Come back here and stop making it weird. We’re not finished yet.”

“Yes,” said Stiles. “Of course. Right.” He nodded once, like he was agreeing with himself and then shook his head and strode back to the bed, wanting to get in where Derek couldn’t see all six feet of his awkwardness, wandering around like a massively inexperienced tool.

It was still awkward for a few moments, right until Derek let out an annoyed breath, slid an arm under Stiles’ shoulders and aggressively rearranged him until they were spooning, Derek’s knees tucked behind his. Stiles would have expected that to feel awkward, too, but it wasn’t, it was a relief. He could feel the jittery embarrassment that had been building in his chest die back down, Derek’s breath against his neck, their chests moving in time.

“Only if you want to,” said Derek, after a long moment.

“Wha-” Stiles said, having started to drift off. 

Derek shifted the arm around Stiles and when he spoke Stiles could feel it all the way through his back into his own chest. “This probably counted. We don’t have to do it the other way if you’re uncomfortable.”

“We’ve gotta be thorough,” Stiles muttered, and then, feeling like he owed it to Derek to at least admit it when he’d already let Stiles fuck him, added, “Besides, I already told you - it’s not a hardship. I want to. I mean, uh. If you’re okay with it.”

“Yeah,” said Derek. He ran a hand over Stiles’ head. “You’re pretty good at this,” he said, sounding fond, “for a virgin.”

Stiles elbowed him. “Don’t front, I rocked your world.”

Derek didn’t deny it, but paused and said, “Guess I’m gonna have to do the same,” but he didn’t make any move to start anything right away. They both lay and breathed quietly, and Stiles didn’t even try to guess what time it was, only that it was still dark outside Derek’s loft, and inside it was softly lit and warm. He felt settled, like the horrifying images of the past few days were at a slight, safe distance.

Stiles must have dropped off to sleep, because the next thing he knew he was flat on his back with Derek leaning over him. He twitched before he was quite awake and Derek backed off.

“‘S everything okay?” Stiles asked, then cleared his throat.

“Yes,” said Derek. “Boyd and Cora are still asleep.”

“Oh,” said Stiles, sitting up. “That’s good.” His brain came online slowly. He looked at Derek blearily. “Sorry I passed out on you,” he said.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. Then he grinned more sharply and said, “You only snored a little.”

“I do not - !” Stiles started indignantly, reaching a hand out to give Derek’s shoulder a shove. Derek didn’t budge at all, his grin softening into - dare Stiles think it - fondness.

Stiles cleared his throat. “I still wanna…” he trailed off. “But first I’ve gotta pee and also drink some water, in that order, so.”

Derek backed up, and waved a hand at the bathroom. It wasn’t long before Stiles was back, feeling refreshed and better than he had in days.

Derek was sitting on the edge of the bed, just in his boxers, so Stiles joined him. They were silent for a while, until Stiles said, “Thanks, dude.”

Derek raised a questioning eyebrow. “For the devirginizing,” Stiles clarified.

“It’s not - how did you put it? - it’s not a hardship for me,” said Derek.

“Oh,” said Stiles. “So even before, you thought I was - “

“You’re still underage,” said Derek. He paused and added, “And kind of annoying,” though his fond tone took the sting out of the words.

“Only for another month! And you think I’m funny when I’m annoying.”

They kind of grinned sideways at each other and allowed the silence to take over again.

Finally, Derek half turned on the bed and asked, low and gentle, “Can I kiss you?” It was just a little diffident, like he thought there was still some small chance Stiles would say no. Stiles felt familiar exasperation bubble up in him. He reached out, hooked a hand behind Derek’s neck, and drew him in.

“We’re really good at this,” mumbled Stiles against Derek’s mouth some minutes later, surprised to find they’d sunk down horizontally. “Like, really good.” He broke the kiss and wrangled one of his legs around Derek, kneeing him in the stomach once or twice in the process. “Sorry, sorry,” said Stiles, arching his body and grabbing at Derek to try and encourage him back down.

Derek didn’t budge for a second and Stiles glanced at his face to be sure he hadn’t crossed a line or something, but Derek was wearing his most infuriating smirk, braced unmoving over him, his superior werewolf strength clearly a source of amusement for him. Stiles gave him an unimpressed look, but Derek held firm for a second longer, then sank his weight against Stiles.

“What?” said Stiles, when Derek didn’t immediately recommence with the kissing. Derek didn’t say anything for a long moment, just stared down at him with a hard-to-read expression on his face. 

“Nothing,” he said, eventually, and leaned down to kiss him once on the mouth, on the jaw, and on his ear. He sucked the place just underneath and Stiles couldn’t stop the rough noise that broke from his throat. He was almost certain he’d never made that noise before in his life and he was torn over whether he was mortified or too turned on to care. But Derek seemed to like it, because he bit, gently, and then again below it, and again at where Stiles’ neck and shoulder met. Stiles was vaguely aware that there were probably some hickeys happening, too, but everything was kind of hazy with pleasure and friction.

When he felt Derek’s dick drag along the juncture of his thigh, he pulled some brain cells back together in order to shove Derek off a little and say, “Hey, devirginizing. Not that the grinding isn’t amazing, but we’ve got priorities here.”

Derek snorted into his neck, but obligingly backed off in order to figure out where the lube and condoms had gone during Stiles’ nap. Once they were located, he sat back and looked down at Stiles with a frankly arousing look of calculation. Still, Derek’s plans always needed Stiles’ input.

“I’ll start,” said Stiles. “But you can help if you want.” He grabbed the lube and got to work. 

He had nearly as much practice at this as he did jerking off, but it was much weirder with an audience. The intent way Derek watched him had him torn neatly between embarrassment and arousal, and it was keeping his dick in a weird half-hard limbo that he didn't really know what to do with. He was just about to start making terrible comments about everything when Derek cupped a hand around his inner thigh, spread it a little further out, and pressed the tip of his finger in alongside one of Stiles'.

That was - okay, that was hot. Derek kneed up a little further between Stiles' legs and grabbed the lube. He rubbed some on his fingers and watched Stiles' own fingers with a focused intensity that had Stiles' insides winding up in anticipation. Derek smoothly added one of his own fingers on Stiles' next thrust. Stiles couldn't help the surprised breath he sucked in, or the way his hips moved into it, and after that there was no more hesitance from Derek. He moved with Stiles’ fingers at first, but then nudged Stiles' hand away and took over, concentration written all over him. He slid two of his fingers in, twisted slow and careful, crooked his knuckles to bump along Stiles' insides, and then did it all over again.

Stiles knew he was gasping, his mouth hanging open, and he couldn't stop himself. Derek smoothed a hand up his thigh, over his stomach, just barely touching his dick and Stiles arched into the contact and almost came. 

"Three?" asked Derek, his eyebrows lowered and intent. Stiles nodded several times and gasped, "Yes." When Derek started to press them in, Stiles had to wrap a hand around his dick to stop himself from coming. He could feel the stretch, but by this time he wanted it so bad, it didn't really hurt. He was the one to reach down and grab Derek's hand, tuck his pinky in, and guide all four of Derek's fingers inside him.

"Jesus, Stiles," said Derek, quiet and strangled.

"I can't - " said Stiles. "You need to - " Stiles fumbled around and found a condom, and threw it at Derek's chest.

Derek barked out a laugh and carefully withdrew his fingers.

"And hurry up," said Stiles, trying to take a deep breath.

"Hold on," Derek laughed. "I've never had to try and get a condom open with lube everywhere." But he got it open without having to resort to claws or teeth, and carefully rolled it on. "Okay," he said, palming Stiles' thighs and then leaning forward. "Is this how you want - "

"Yes," said Stiles. "Come on." Derek positioned his dick, and pressed just slightly. "Save me with your dick."

Derek choked on a laugh and slid half way in. Stiles moaned. He'd never understood what people in movies and porn were making so much noise about. It was pretty easy to stay quiet when he jerked off. This was a whole different situation. Without knowing quite how, he already had a hand clenched in Derek's hair, and a heel digging into Derek's ass.

Derek leaned down on one elbow and used his other hand to wrap Stiles' other leg over his hip. Then he looked Stiles in the face and nudged a little further forward. 

"Okay?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," said Stiles. And he was. Derek's dick wasn't exactly small, and it felt bigger than it looked. Stiles could tell, as Derek inched forward, how this could hurt, if you did it too fast. There was a tiny, electric undercurrent of pain, or mostly the threat of pain, like his nerves were gearing up to complain, but never quite got to that point. Mostly it felt both weird and good at the same time. It was almost a surprise when Derek's hips hit his ass. 

"Still okay?" asked Derek, close enough that Stiles could feel his breath on his lips.

"I think," said Stiles slowly, experimentally circling his hips, "that I'm more than okay, actually. You're clear to try some moving." It was very pleasing to hear Derek's breathing get even rockier than it already was with every roll of Stiles' hips. Derek braced himself on his hands over Stiles, shifted his hips back a few inches and thrust back in. And that was when it went from good to -

"Oh, Jesus christ, do that again."

Stiles was having trouble focusing on anything but Derek's dick, but he caught a glimpse of a wolfish grin, and maybe a flash of fangs, so he did what he always did: pushed whichever of Derek’s buttons he could reach. He grabbed a double handful of Derek's ass, squeezed, and yanked him forward. _That_ got him some red-eye.

Stiles grinned. 

"I figure we're well past the growly thing you did where you tried to scare me away, so I'm going to take that as a compliment."

Derek blinked his eyes, and the red was gone. He was still breathing hard, but he managed to give Stiles a sarcastic eyebrow tilt. He didn't say anything, just twisted his hips inward in a way that had Stiles bowing his back and feeling like he lost a few seconds somewhere. Stiles could feel his blood, could feel the frustrated anticipation pulsing through him, sparking higher with every one of Derek's thrusts, with the way his dick throbbed in time.

Stiles couldn't keep his hands still. He ran them all over Derek's body just to feel how all his muscles moved as he worked in and out of Stiles, to feel the sweat dripping off him, the smooth skin over his arm muscles planted on either side of Stiles.

"I want - _Derek_." Stiles sucked in a breath. "Please just - "

"What, Stiles," said Derek, his mouth parted, and his eyes intent. "Tell me." 

"I want to come on your dick," gasped Stiles. Stiles threaded a hand down between them and got a hand around his cock.

" _Fuck_ ," Derek said, eyes clenched closed. "Then you'd better do it quick, because I can't - you look - " 

Derek sat up a little, spreading his knees for balance and then hooked a hand under Stiles' thighs, spreading them further and folding them toward Stiles' chest so that he could sink down closer, braced on his elbows instead.

He twisted his hips out and snapped them back in like a machine, like he'd never get tired, and Stiles was having trouble deciding what felt best: Derek's dick or the relief of his own hand around his dick.

"C'mon, Stiles," said Derek. "You're not a virgin any more. You're safe. I'll keep you safe. Let go."

"Oh," said Stiles, and promptly came all over himself, clenching down around Derek's dick, his hands digging into whatever part of Derek he could reach, his thighs digging into Derek's sides. He couldn't breath it felt so good.

Derek was thrusting shallowly, riding out Stiles's orgasm, but just as Stiles was coming down enough to see again, he pulled almost all the way out, thrust back in, hard, as far as he could go, and gave a strangled grunt. Stiles could feel the pulse of Derek's orgasm, and his own body weakly echoed it, one more aftershock before he collapsed back on the bed, boneless and mindless, and tired as fuck.

"This is the first time in a week I haven't been afraid," mumbled Stiles. Derek threaded his fingers through Stiles' hair, soothing, the scrape of his stubble rough against Stiles' chest.

"Good," he murmured, and pressed a kiss to Stiles’ sternum. Then, with a sigh, he dragged himself up, off Stiles, and slowly, holding the condom, pulled out. He tied it off and climbed off the bed. Stiles watched him with his eyes half-closed, almost too tired to stay awake in spite of his earlier nap.

"Can I stay a little longer?" he asked, when Derek got back, holding a wet paper towel from the kitchen which he used to give Stiles a cursory wipe. 

"Of course, Stiles. You should sleep anyway. Here, get under the covers."

"You're gonna stay, too, right?" asked Stiles, his voice scratchy and plaintive, and he was too sleepy and content to feel embarrassed about it.

"Yes. Move over a little. We have plenty of time before morning." Derek slid in with him, moved him over, and arranged their limbs together. It felt so warm and safe here, not alone, and with a werewolf he trusted wrapped around him. He might live after all. The threefold death no longer called to him, telling him he was next. He was entirely not a virgin any more, and judging by the events of tonight, there was a chance this wasn't a once-only event. Maybe he could convince Derek to let him practice. 

"We have to make sure no more virgins die. We have to talk to Lydia."

"We will. Go to sleep stiles."

Stiles slid into sleep tucked into Derek’s chest, the rasp of his breath and soft stubble grounding him in the safety of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like someone _might_ have specifically used the line "Save me with your dick" before? And if so, I sincerely apologize for stealing it. I left it in because it just felt like such a thing that Stiles would totally say in canon, like if he'd managed to get Danny to agree, haha.


End file.
